Read Online Dry Ice by Bill Evans, Marianna Jameson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bill Evans, Marianna Jameson
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would develop other projects.
Greg smiled. What fools they were, to think that he’d agree, to think there could be other projects of greater importance, of greater impact, than TESLA. Their lives were petty, as were their goals. But his only goal in life had been to master the weather. There was no greater goal.
And he’d achieved it.
He, Greg Simpson, and his handpicked team had harnessed the immense power of the earth, something Man had tried to do for millennia by offering up prayers and penance, by deploying methods ranging from live sacrifices to cloud seeding. For centuries, humans had understood that weather was a critical variable in the outcome of wars—both the military and political varieties. Across time and civilizations, the gods of weather and war had been beseeched by the oppressed and appeased by the victors. Geniuses and madmen alike had devised plots and plans in their efforts to affect the weather, but none had ever succeeded in wresting control of the weather from the very forces that direct it.
Until now.
Greg’s team had turned Nature itself into the last, best weapon in the world’s history, the ultimate force multiplier. Severe weather everywhere was created and steered, and then dissipated when the goal had been achieved—or the lesson learned. One large earthquake had shown the world that a self-proclaimed superpower really wasn’t one at all.
Because of Greg Simpson, because of his genius, Flint was on its way to becoming the most prosperous, most powerful corporation on the planet … and America was re-establishing itself as the world’s only economic and military superpower.
The small, bland, screenless communication device at the edge of his work space emitted a low buzz as it vibrated in its charger. Greg reached across his desk and picked it up.
“What’s going on?” was the admiral’s greeting in a voice that sounded annoyed rather than concerned. It pricked at Greg’s ego.
“Your efforts have not worked,” Greg replied. “I’ve just been told my replacement will be here in a matter of hours.”
Silence on the other end of the phone confirmed for Greg that this was not news to the admiral.
“I’m sorry. We did everything—”
“No, you didn’t,” Greg said simply. “If you had done everything, this would have been settled by now. Instead, Tess Beauchamp has just taken off from Capetown, South Africa, in a Flint plane. I’m expected to hand over the keys to my kingdom and then head back to civilization.” He paused. “You do know who Tess Beauchamp is. Third-generation government scientist. Recent sellout to the private sector.” Breakthrough researcher in agrometeorology and a leading figure in the field of applied informatics. Stupid bitch who bolted in the middle of a three-year fellowship with me fifteen years ago and nearly cost me everything because of it.
“Of course I know who she is. She spoke at a NATO meeting I attended three weeks ago. Listen, Greg, we can still fix this—”
“No, you listen to me, Admiral Medev,” Greg said quietly. “You had the opportunity to ‘fix’ this. You failed. So I will fix it.”
Alexander Medev’s pause lasted long enough to make Greg smile with cold delight. “How?”
“I’m going to follow the most basic rule of engineering. I’m going to use the resources at hand.”
“Christ Almighty. There will be a flight crew on that plane. Equipment. We can’t—”
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘we,’ Admiral Medev? This isn’t a collaborative effort anymore. I am going to address the situation as I see fit. Tess Beauchamp, Flint’s new girl wonder, is not going to take over TESLA. I am going to remain in control, which makes her expendable. The plane and equipment can be replaced. The flight crew, well, those people are adrenaline jockeys, aren’t they? That’s what they signed up for, isn’t it—risk, danger, adventure?”
Greg let the frigidity of his smile seep into his voice. “Anyone
Greg smiled. What fools they were, to think that he’d agree, to think there could be other projects of greater importance, of greater impact, than TESLA. Their lives were petty, as were their goals. But his only goal in life had been to master the weather. There was no greater goal.
And he’d achieved it.
He, Greg Simpson, and his handpicked team had harnessed the immense power of the earth, something Man had tried to do for millennia by offering up prayers and penance, by deploying methods ranging from live sacrifices to cloud seeding. For centuries, humans had understood that weather was a critical variable in the outcome of wars—both the military and political varieties. Across time and civilizations, the gods of weather and war had been beseeched by the oppressed and appeased by the victors. Geniuses and madmen alike had devised plots and plans in their efforts to affect the weather, but none had ever succeeded in wresting control of the weather from the very forces that direct it.
Until now.
Greg’s team had turned Nature itself into the last, best weapon in the world’s history, the ultimate force multiplier. Severe weather everywhere was created and steered, and then dissipated when the goal had been achieved—or the lesson learned. One large earthquake had shown the world that a self-proclaimed superpower really wasn’t one at all.
Because of Greg Simpson, because of his genius, Flint was on its way to becoming the most prosperous, most powerful corporation on the planet … and America was re-establishing itself as the world’s only economic and military superpower.
The small, bland, screenless communication device at the edge of his work space emitted a low buzz as it vibrated in its charger. Greg reached across his desk and picked it up.
“What’s going on?” was the admiral’s greeting in a voice that sounded annoyed rather than concerned. It pricked at Greg’s ego.
“Your efforts have not worked,” Greg replied. “I’ve just been told my replacement will be here in a matter of hours.”
Silence on the other end of the phone confirmed for Greg that this was not news to the admiral.
“I’m sorry. We did everything—”
“No, you didn’t,” Greg said simply. “If you had done everything, this would have been settled by now. Instead, Tess Beauchamp has just taken off from Capetown, South Africa, in a Flint plane. I’m expected to hand over the keys to my kingdom and then head back to civilization.” He paused. “You do know who Tess Beauchamp is. Third-generation government scientist. Recent sellout to the private sector.” Breakthrough researcher in agrometeorology and a leading figure in the field of applied informatics. Stupid bitch who bolted in the middle of a three-year fellowship with me fifteen years ago and nearly cost me everything because of it.
“Of course I know who she is. She spoke at a NATO meeting I attended three weeks ago. Listen, Greg, we can still fix this—”
“No, you listen to me, Admiral Medev,” Greg said quietly. “You had the opportunity to ‘fix’ this. You failed. So I will fix it.”
Alexander Medev’s pause lasted long enough to make Greg smile with cold delight. “How?”
“I’m going to follow the most basic rule of engineering. I’m going to use the resources at hand.”
“Christ Almighty. There will be a flight crew on that plane. Equipment. We can’t—”
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘we,’ Admiral Medev? This isn’t a collaborative effort anymore. I am going to address the situation as I see fit. Tess Beauchamp, Flint’s new girl wonder, is not going to take over TESLA. I am going to remain in control, which makes her expendable. The plane and equipment can be replaced. The flight crew, well, those people are adrenaline jockeys, aren’t they? That’s what they signed up for, isn’t it—risk, danger, adventure?”
Greg let the frigidity of his smile seep into his voice. “Anyone
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